Not All Spirits Weave Lies
by Sam the Wise
Summary: Before everything went wrong, Damas is presented with the chance to see Jak grow up in Sandover by a mysterious spirit who refuses to explain its presence. Who is this spirit, and what does it have to do with the coming events? K for now, may up the rating if necessary. Reviews appreciated. On hiatus.
1. Spiritus

Hey guys! So, I wrote this about three years ago for a literature assignment, and just found it hanging around my computer. So I thought I'd upload it. Not that good, when I read it over, but… hey, its something. I only wrote one chapter, but for the hell of it, I'm going to write more. Make it a proper story. So here we go!

Chapter 1 Spiritus

Damas rested his hands on the ledge of the balcony that overlooked the entire city. He felt empty and powerless to the forces at work, an ant to the higher ups who were driven to carefully strip away everything that mattered to him, one by one. Like it was his duty to sit there, idly allowing them to play. Perhaps this was why he existed, so the Precursors could spit on him and taunt him, pushing him to snap the thin string that tied him to sanity.

Two days since young Mar had gone missing, two days he'd gone without his child. It was difficult to keep his composure in the open, where everyone and everything could see him. Read him. But he was Damas, ruler of Haven. He was a warrior, and would not break when his people needed him most. No matter how persistent it was, worming its way into his thoughts, he'd remain the stoic leader the people of Haven needed.

_Forget this, Damas. Your people need you. You are not expected to have feelings. _He thought bitterly, biting his tongue in an effort to get his mind off… it.

He turned away from the city that was slowly tearing itself apart, willing his legs to carry him to the bed where his wife slept soundly. This was the only time Amala was ever peaceful, when the tears stopped flowing and the marks of stress and fear were smoothed away. But the moist tracks were still present, like tattoos, burned into her skin because he couldn't protect the very thing that mattered most to him. Maybe it _was_ his fault, then, that Mar had gone missing? Amala had readily blamed him for all that had transpired, had beaten her fists against his chest in a wild fury with his name left unspoken on her lips. She would not outright say it, but he knew she thought it. And her actions against him were enough.

Before Damas had the chance to settle down for the night, a soft, delicate voice whispered from the far corner of the room, where the shadows were thickest. It spoke, but its words made little sense to him. He narrowed his eyes and made his way toward the corner, his hands balled tightly into deadly fists. Was it just another terrorist, here to ruin his life further? An assassin? He could come up with dozens of possibilities when the voice grew louder, and realization dawned on him. It was saying his name. Calling to him.

"Who's there?!" He called out to the voice and peered into the darkness without any idea of what he was up against. No answer was received, but the shadowy corner slowly began glowing, a sickly blue-white color, closely followed by a loud bang that startled his wife into consciousness. She stared around wildly, eyes large and confused and _scared_. Damas shouldn't be surprised. She'd been terrified someone might come in to get her as well. But their family was ruined enough as it was. Taking her away from him would drive him to seclusion, but not break him. _He was a king_.

"What's going on? Damas? What happened?" She twitched and eyed the lit corner carefully. "What is that? Damas?"

Damas shook his head slowly and stepped away from the bright glow, standing at the end of the bed with his hands shielding his eyes. His ears twitched when the voice started up again, now addressing the both of them with a darker, colder tone.

_I remember you_, it said quietly. _I remember the days before. And after. I remember what is to come. What has. You. You are a friend. I treat my friends well. I come with an offering to strengthen that friendship. For the future. For the Coming. I am here to help. You, Damas, rightful Ruler of Haven, must accept. You must see, must know._

The blue-white glow dimmed slightly, as if taking a deep breath, before continuing with more strength and urgency than it had before. _You must see. I must help. My duty. I must show you. Do you accept? Tell me you accept. I will show you what I see. What I know. You are Ruler. You must know._

Damas and his wife stared blankly, jaws slack, at the lazy blue light. Damas leaned forward expectantly, nodding slowly for the being to continue. He settled down on the bed beside his wife with his elbows upon his knees, fingers steepled.

_Child. You had a child. I know of him. I knew him. I can show him to you, too. You can see. This is my offer. Know your child. You can help with knowledge. Your knowledge. Prevent the future. Stop everything. You __**can**__. You can see Mar again._

At the mention of Mar, Damas shot up from his position, body rigid and teeth grinding, a furious growl growing at the back of his throat. "My son. What do you know of him? How do you know his name?" He took a single step toward the corner, shuddering at the sudden drop in temperature. A spirit. That's what it was. But how? Who?

_Yes. Your son. I knew him. Know him. Will know him. It Is a loop. Forever. You can stop this loop. You can fix it all. We can work together. You get your son back. I get my life. Do you see now? It works. You can be a hero. You can fix the mistakes you will one day make, before you make them. You will be a family. Would you not like that?_

Amala sat straighter, a ferocious, violent glare in her eye when she stared at the spirit, clutching the blankets until her fingers tore holes in the fabric. "_My_ Mar? Spirit, speak! Show me! I must see my son!" The tears in her eyes broke free once again, trickling down her cheeks to pool at the tip of her chin. "Please. I must know where he is."

The spirit remained silent for a full minute, then began to… morph. Like mixing liquids gathering what light there was in the room to create a semi-solid form. It's features were blank, its shape unsure, like a picture shifting in-and-out of focus. It was not familiar, but it was all the spirit could do.

_My name is unknown to you. So you may call on me with Xadret. I am willing to show you things you may never see again. In time, things will be explained to you. Do you understand?_

The spirit hovered quietly before them, legs crossed and arms folded as it awaited their reply. Amala was nodding her head with the same crazed look, clutching her arms to her chest. Would Damas agree? Of course he would. This was his _son._ He may never see his son again, and if given the chance to find him? Damn right he'd take it. The two watched each others reactions, then Damas gave the spirit a small nod. "We understand, spi-Xad…ret…" Perhaps the name meant something, but he would not ask.

_Very well. I will show you. All things will be explained, I promise. It is my duty to help. I ask that you stand back. You must allow me to concentrate._ Xadret began to glow brighter, chin tucked to its chest and hands pressed tightly together. Its form, solid as it seemed, had started to _melt_, spinning in a slow, lazy circle around a single, white hot center. The circle grew larger until it encompassed the entire wall, then slowed in its spinning, mixing the bright blue with the searing white, dimming both colors and showing _something_. A picture?

_Centuries ago, there was a village. Small, with very few people. _The disembodied voice began, forcing the circle to show a small seaside village. _One day, a Sage appeared. Yes, a sage. And with him, was a young boy. This boys name was Mar. _

Damas flinched while Amala gasped, stumbling and grasping for her husbands arm. "M-mar? My little boy? Centuries ago?"

_Please, allow me to finish. No one knew where they came from, as the Sage refused to tell. He changed this boys name. He would not make it easy for those after him. As the boy was being chased. The Sage knew. He knows much. But he would not tell. He changed this boys name to Jak. _The picture changed to show a young boy, no older than fourteen playing along the beach with another boy of the same age. _They grew up in sunny little Sandover. It was home. Jak was safe, and no one could get him._

Damas leaned forward to get a better look at the picture, his sudden shaking taking him by surprise. His son? Way back in the past? Kept secret in a village no bigger than this one building? How? And why?

"So. You're telling me that my son, Mar, not only changed his name… but is centuries in the past?"


	2. Show Me Something

Chapter 2 Show me something

_When Daxter had ambushed him from the bushes, Jak nearly, __**nearly **__made a sound. The fact that he was taken by surprise was amazing in itself. His hearing was the sharpest in the village, __**no one**__ could catch him off guard. With the exception of his best friend, of course. Then again, Jak had been __**running**__, not __**listening.**__ Daxter was just lucky enough to have found a hiding place large enough for him to squeeze himself into._

"_You know Jak, I think you should get those ears of yours looked at. And you're getting slow!" Daxter tugged roughly on the end of his friend ear with a loud chuckle, snapping his fingers by his own ear. Jak only smiled that mischievous smile of his, then started running again with Daxter on his heels. Through all the excitement, however, Jak couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and followed._

Damas watched the scene play out. There was no way _that_ was his son. Yet, he saw the similarities Jak had to Mar. The adventurous and daring attitude, the smile. The eyes. Amala recognized the boys eyes before anything else, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes had widened to the size of saucer plates, if that was even possible. Jak even had the same hair color as Mar, at least the slight green tint at the roots.

"Damas," Amala said shakily, eyes now half lidded as she continued, "That's him. I know it. Its Mar." The two watched as the scene slowly faded out, the ethereal entity taking form before them once again. Xadret. Damas was still attempting to make sense of the name. And, as neither he nor Amala could come up with _anything_, they had silently agreed to speak with the monks. This was a spirit. Maybe they'd have something.

_I have said so. You do not need to repeat my words._ The spirit's words came out garbled, as if the entity were having trouble forming proper sentences and keeping its form stable, but remained silent and hurriedly continued. _They call them Rift Gates. The people. Though most are gone. Destroyed. And I do not have energy to send anyone back. But I need help. Your help. You can warn them… you can…_

Before the spirit could continue the door swung open to reveal the two normally statue-still guards, with wide eyes and panicked looks. In response, the spirit dissipated and melted into the candlelight before the two guards got a good look. Damas faced the guards with his deadliest stare, a question on its own. What had compelled them to barge in so rudely? To his and his wife's room?

"Sir, it's the Baron. He's launched a full scale attack on the city!" The first guard, visibly the youngest, had stepped forward and begun relaying information on the attack. The Baron, obviously, knew the weak points of the city and had used them to his advantage. "The rest of the guard was already barricading the front entrance when we got word of the attack."

Damas shook his head and, with a quick glance aimed toward the dim blue light, followed the two guardsmen down the hall to the war room. With every twitch of his fingers, the guards instantly knew their post. So long as they left room for him to fight, Damas was pleased with their need for combat. Should the Barons forces breach the front doors, he and forty-three of the greatest soldiers would take the pleasure of ending the siege.

The thought brought a smile to his lips, anticipation welling up inside him. He almost hoped for the battle, the failure of the city guards. Considering that, should he survive, he'd be the one to take the Barons head before his followers as well as his own people. He was the Ruler of Haven, not Praxis. Taking extreme measures was a mild act to him if it was enough to prove his power. He was not a tyrant. He just refused to look weak.

Damas rubbed the dark circles forming under his eyes and leaned forward against the rounded platform at the center of the room, the holographic map of the entire city piecing itself together one block at a time. Tiny red insect sized blips showed up on the map, the largest of the clumps appearing nearer to the wall of the city. Why would the Baron attack from the outside? Looks like he'd have to ask personally.

"So their attacking from the edges of the city rather than from within?" He repeated aloud, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Smart. Wasn't what I was expecting. You two," He gestured to the guards who'd called him in, "I want snipers on the roof of every house, every factory-I want them _now_." Damas turned back when they scuttled off, listing off strategies to his generals and casually ignoring the wise words of his advisors.

Damas silently prayed to the Precursors for victory, then left the room to retrieve his own weapon. He was royalty, yes, but he was also a warrior.

"Did you see that, Jak? I was standing completely still and you missed! You distracted or something?" Daxter waved his hand in front of his friends face in an attempt to catch his attention, neither concerned nor worried but rather angry that he was no longer the center of attention. Jak remained frozen on the spot for a moment longer before shrinking away from Daxters hand.

Jak tilted his head and stared once again at the bushes, turning Daxters attention to the faint light emanating from behind the thickest of the bushes, pulsing softly. Seconds after Daxter had turned to look, the glow vanished completely and abruptly, startling the both of them. "The hell was that?" Daxter, being the cowardly daredevil that he was, took a few steps closer to the bush and prodded around for the source. Nohting

"You think that was blue eco? Minus the oh-so-painful sparks…"

Jak shook his head and turned away from the bush, lazily wandering toward the shore with Daxter skipping up behind him. "Jak?"

Daxters childhood friend would have answered, had it not been the voice growing louder within the space behind his eyes.

_Hello Mar._

**Im' so sorry for not making this as good as the first chapter. I'm trying to build things up slowly without making the chapters ridiculously long… Don't worry, things will get better in the next chapter! Promise!**


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